“With what aspect of the work, exactly?” Avery asked.
“Looking back, I honestly couldn’t tell you,” he said. “It was just knowing that we were so close to creating temperatures in the lab that could mimic what someone might feel in space. To find ways to manipulate elements with temperatures…there’s something sort of godlike about it. It can get addicting. I simply didn’t realize this until it was too late.”
His obsession with his work certainly fits the description of whoever we’re working for, Avery thought. Still, from just having spoken to Nguyen for a grand total of two minutes, she was pretty sure Bryson had been right. There was no way Nguyen was behind it.
“What exactly were you working on when you stepped down?” Avery asked.
“It’s quite complicated,” he said. “And since then, I’ve moved on from it. But essentially, I was working to get rid of the excess heat that is caused when atoms lose their momentum during the cooling process. I was tinkering with quantum units of vibration and photons. Now, as I understand it, it’s been perfected by our folks in Boulder. But at the time, I was working myself crazy!”
“Outside of the work you’re doing for the journal and things with the college, are you still doing any of the work?” she asked.
“I dabble here and there,” he said. “But it’s just things here at home. I have my own little private lab in a rental space a few blocks away. But it’s nothing serious. Would you like to see it?”
Avery could tell that they weren’t being baited or given false enthusiasm. Nguyen was clearly very passionate about the work he used to do. And the more he talked about what he had once done, the deeper they dug themselves into a world of quantum mechanics – something that was a world away from a crazed killer dumping a body in a freezing river.
Avery and Ramirez shared a look, which Avery ended with a nod. “Well, Mr. Nguyen,” she said, “we truly appreciate your time. Let me leave you with one question, though: during the time you spent working in the lab, did you ever come cross anyone – coworkers, students, anyone – that struck you as eccentric or a little off?”
Nguyen took a few moments to think this over but then shook his head. “None that I can think of. Then again, us scientists are all a bit eccentric when you get right down to it. But if anyone pops into my head, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.”
“And if you change your mind and think you’d like to see my lab, just let me know.”
Passionate about his work and lonely, Avery thought. Damn…that was me up until a few months ago.
She could relate. And because of that, she gladly accepted Nguyen’s business card when he offered it to her at the door. He closed the door as Avery and Ramirez made their way down the porch stairs and back to their car.
“Did you understand a single word that guy said?” Ramirez asked.
“Very little,” she said.
But the truth was that he had said one thing that still clung to her mind. It did not make her think Nguyen was worth further investigation, but it did give her a new insight into how to think about their killer.
To find ways to manipulate elements with temperatures, Nguyen had said. There’s something sort of godlike about it.
Maybe our killer is acting out some godlike fantasy, she thought. And if he thinks he’s godlike, he could be more dangerous than we think.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The hamster looked like a furry block of ice when he took it out of the freezer. It felt like a block of ice, too. He couldn’t help but giggle at the clink sound it made when he placed it on the cookie sheet. Its legs were sticking up in the air – a stark contrast to the way they had been pedaling back and forth in panic when he had first placed it in the freezer.
That had been three days ago. Since then, the police had discovered the girl’s body in the river. He had been surprised at how far the body had made it. All the way to Watertown. And the girl’s name had been Patty Dearborne. Sounded pretentious. But damn, that girl had been beautiful.
He thought idly of Patty Dearborne, the girl he had taken from the outskirts of the BU campus as he ran his finger along the hamster’s frigid belly. He’d been so nervous, but it had been quite easy. Of course, he hadn’t meant to kill the girl. Things had just gotten out of hand. But then…then it had all sort of unlocked for him.
Beauty could be taken, but not in any mortal sort of way. Even when Patty Dearborne had been dead, she’d still been beautiful. Once he had gotten Patty naked, he’d found the girl to be damn near flawless. There had been one mole on her lower back and a small scar along the upper part of her ankle. But other than that, she had been spotless.
He had dumped Patty in the river and when she’d hit the frigid water, she had been dead. He’d watched the news with great anticipation, wondering if they would be able to bring her back…wondering if the ice that had held her for those two days would preserve her in some way.
Of course, it had not.
I was sloppy, he thought, looking to the hamster. It’ll take some time, but I’ll get it figured out.
He was hoping the hamster might be part of it. With his eyes still on its little frozen body, he retrieved the two heating pads from the kitchen counter. They were the sort of warming pads used in athletics to loosen muscles and promote relaxation for strained parts of the body. He placed one of the pads beneath the body and the other over its stiff little legs and frigid underside.
He was sure it would take some waiting. He had plenty of time…he was in no real hurry. He was trying to cheat death and he knew death was not going anywhere.
With this thought in his head, he filled his apartment with a witch-like cackle. Giving the hamster one final look, he walked into his bedroom. It was quite tidy, as was the adjoining bathroom. He went into the bathroom and washed his hands with the efficiency of a surgeon. He then looked into the mirror and stared at his face – a face he sometimes thought of as a monster.
There was irreparable damage on the left side of his face. It started just below his eye and reached down to his bottom lip. While most of the skin and tissue had been salvaged in his youth, there was permanent scarring and discoloring on that side of his face. His mouth always seemed to be frozen in a permanent scowl as well.
At thirty-nine years of age, he had stopped caring about just how bad it looked. It was the hand he had been dealt. A shitty mother had resulted in a disfigured mess. But that was okay…he was working on fixing it. He looked to the mangled reflection in the mirror and smiled. It could take years to figure it out, but that was okay.
“Hamsters are only five bucks apiece,” he said to the empty bathroom. “And those pretty college coeds are a dime a dozen.”
He had done some reading, mainly in the forums of practicing nurses and med students. He figured if the experiment with the hamster was going to work, the heating pads needed to be on it for about forty minutes. It would be a slow thaw, one that would not too badly disrupt or shock the frozen heart.
He spent that forty minutes watching the news. He caught a few quick blips about Patty Dearborne. He learned that Patty was attending BU with aspirations of becoming a counselor. She’d had a boyfriend and currently had loving parents mourning her. He saw the parents on TV, hugging and crying together while speaking to the media.
He cut the TV off and walked into the kitchen. The smell of the thawing hamster was starting to fill the room…a smell he had not been expecting. He ran to the little body and threw the heating pads off of it.
The fur was singed and the previously frozen belly was slightly charred. He swiped the tiny furry body away. When it plopped onto the kitchen floor with little trails of smoke wafting from its hide, he screamed.
He stormed around the apartment for a while, furious. As was usually the case, his anger and absolute rage were driven by memories of an oven burner…blazing in his memories of childhood with the smell of burned flesh.
His screams downgraded to pouting and sobbing within five minutes. Then, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he went into the kitchen and picked up the hamster. He tossed it into the garbage as if it were just a piece of trash and washed his hands at the kitchen sink.
He was humming by the time he was done. When he took his keys from the hook by the door, he habitually ran his free hand along the scarring along the left side of his face. He closed the door, locked up, and went down to the street. There, in the midst of an absolutely beautiful winter morning, he got into his red van and started down the road.
Almost casually, he glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.
That permanent scowl was still there, but he did not let that deter him.
He had work to do.
***
Sophie Lentz was done with this frat shit. For that matter, she was just about done with this college shit, too.
Vain or not, she knew how she looked. There were girls who were prettier than her, sure. But she had the Latin thing going for her, the dark eyes and raven black hair. She could also turn the accent on and off when she needed to. She’d been born in America, raised in Arizona, but according to her mother, the Latin had never left her. The Latin had never left her parents, either…not even when they had moved to New York the week after Sophie had been accepted into Emerson.
It was most apparent in her looks rather than her attitude and personality, though. And man, had that worked for her in Arizona. Honestly, it had worked for her in college, too. But only for her freshman year. She’d experimented then but not as badly as her mother was probably thinking. And apparently, word had gotten out: Sophie Lentz didn’t take much prodding to get into bed and when she did land in your bed, buckle up because she was a firecracker.
She supposed there were worse reputations to have. But it had blown up in her face tonight. Some guy – she thought his name was Kevin – had started kissing her and she had let him. But when they were alone and he refused to take no for an answer…
Sophie’s right hand still hurt. There was also still a bit of blood on her knuckle. She wiped it away on her tight jeans, recalling the sound of the asshole’s nose crunching against her fist. She was furious but, deep down, wondered if she sort of deserved it. She did not believe in karma but maybe the part of the vixen she had played last semester was catching up to her. Maybe she was reaping what she had sown.
She walked down the streets that cut through Emerson College, heading back to her apartment. Her goodie-goodie roommate would no doubt be studying for some test tomorrow, so at least she wouldn’t be alone.
She was three blocks away from her apartment when she started to feel a strange sort of sensation. She looked behind her, sure that she was being followed, but there was no one. She could see the shapes of people in a little coffee bar a few feet behind her, but that was it. She had a fleeting irritated thought about what kind of morons drank coffee at 11:30 at night before she started on, still fuming over Kevin or whatever the guy’s name had been.
Up ahead at a stoplight, someone was blaring some terrible hip-hop. The car’s back bumper was rattling and the bass sounded wretched. You’re really being a bitch tonight, aren’t you, slugger? she said to herself.
She looked to her slightly swollen right hand and grinned. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
By the time she reached the intersection where the booming car had been, the light had changed and the car raced off. She turned right at the intersection and her apartment building came into view. Again, though, she felt that creeping sensation. She turned to look behind her and again, nothing was there. A bit further down the street a couple was walking hand in hand. There were several cars parked along the street and a single red van driving down toward the stoplight she had just passed.
Maybe she was just being paranoid because some loser had basically tried to rape her. That plus the adrenaline that was flowing through her was an unhealthy combination. She just needed to get home, wash up, and get to bed. This partying crap had to stop.
She neared her apartment, really hoping her roommate wasn’t home. She’d be asking tons of questions about why she was home early. She did it because she was nosy and didn’t have a life of her own…not because she actually cared.
She made her way up the steps to the building. When she opened the door and stepped inside, she looked back down the street, feeling that sensation of being watched once again. The streets were empty, though; the only thing she saw was a couple making out furiously against the side of an apartment building three doors down. She also saw that same red van. It was parked at the stoplight, just sort of idling there. Sophie wondered if there was some horny dude driving it, watching the make-out session against the apartment building.
With a case of the creeps, Sophie headed inside. The door closed, leaving the night behind her. But that unsettling feeling remained.
***
She woke up when her roommate left the next morning. The noisy bitch was probably on her way out to get more mangoes or papayas for her pretentious fruit smoothies. Sophie was pretty sure her roommate had no classes this early today. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was 10:30.
Crap, she thought. She had class in an hour and there was no way she’d make it on time. She had to shower, throw some breakfast together, and then get to campus. She groaned, wondering how she’d let herself become this sort of girl. Was she going to be the tease now? Was she going to let her personal drama get in the way of her education and bettering her life? Was she —
A knock at the front door broke her out of her internal reflection. She grumbled and slipped out of bed. She was only wearing a pair of panties and a thin cotton T-shirt, but that didn’t matter. This would almost certainly be her roommate. The idiot had probably left her wallet. Or keys. Or something…
Another knock, soft yet insistent. Yes…it would be her roommate. Only she had that sort of annoying knock.
“Hold your horses already,” Sophie yelled.
She reached the door and answered it, unsetting the lock. She found herself looking at a stranger. There was something wrong with his face – that’s the first thing she noticed.
And the last.
The stranger stormed into the apartment, closing the door quickly. Before Sophie could let out a scream, there was a hand at her throat and a cloth over her mouth. She breathed in a heavy dose of some sort of chemical – a scent that was so strong it made her eyes water as she fought against the stranger’s grip.
Her fighting lessened quickly. By the time any real sort of fear had the chance to settle in, the world had gone a spinning shade of black that pulled Sophie down into something much darker and more final than sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
Nights that weren’t crammed with work or in a state of hectic hurry were not something Avery was used to. So when she found herself in the middle of one, she was never quite sure how to respond. Currently, she was sitting on her couch, holding her phone and texting Rose. She knew that if she was truly going to keep Rose in her life from now on, she was going to have to make a point to make her a priority.
Yes, she had the case notes for the Patty Dearborne case in front of her but they were not consuming her. She also had a photocopy of the letter the killer had sent and while that kept taunting her, she did her best to place Rose above it all in that moment. In her texts to Rose, she was discovering that her daughter had been waiting for this sort of attention even if she wasn’t aware of it. She was chit-chatting like a pre-teen girl, talking about boys and movies. They were also making plans for their next outing. Avery was very careful to also let Rose know what was going on with her workload so if something came up that would interfere with those plans, it wouldn’t be out of the blue.